g a m e s
by Hanae da Firefly
Summary: start. run. fight. ko. new game? [cloud x leon] [implied sex]


This is the last you'll likely be seeing of fic in a long, long time until 4 December. Enjoy, and don't forget to review. 

**g a m e s**

Words: 1550  
Genre: Angst (with a hint of Smut)  
Pairing(s): Cloud x Leon  
Notes: Canon. An abstract and angry piece thing. This is the 'hide-and-seek' prompt from the lovely **sakurabatou** whose art and general company makes me glee. ILU LIKE A MAD THING THAT LOVES THINGS A WHOLE LOT. Also, I like tempting you to the dark side... because mmmmyummy porn.  
Summary: start. run. fight. ko. new game?  
Warning: Implied sex.  
Rated: R

* * *

It's like a deadly charade.

A flurry of movements, sway, angry yet passionate motions, erratic but truthfully well practiced – it's like a dance; beautifully choreographed and filled to the brim with odium. Still, it remains a charade. A meticulous charade. The dance is just another intricate gesticulation within it. Tumultuous. Ominous. Guess it right, and that would be the end. As always.

That's all.

And then pause.

Ah, yet another well practiced move – or is that, too, just an act in the charade? The disappearing act; always performed before the conclusion is met, postponing the end, prolonging. Partings are always anti-climactic. It's just the way it is. But this time, the poison from before, the odium, it is causing irritation, and now Leon can't wait, can't be patient as always, angrily, he keeps moving. He refuses to play along with this game of hide-and-seek – he wants a conclusion, a result, an answer – so he runs ahead and grasps onto that deceptively lissom arm and it's tag you're it is just all it was supposed to be.

Games.

He was sick to death of games, sick to death _with_ games, but he's always played along, wanted to at least receive some reward for all the inconvenience he's had to suffer at the behest of this man. Leon wonders if everything is truly worth so little to be viewed as nothing more than a great game to him… to a man who's already lost everything and has nothing to want.

Cloud never gambles, it's not in his character, and a man who owns nothing has no right to place his bets. But there is always something Leon wants to know (and Cloud is tired of being the chaser, so he reasons that the only way he'll stick around was if, just once, Leon could do the chasing for him. Catch him, tag him, find him – once he was 'it' he'd have to start running.) so he reasons that if by playing along with Cloud's games and following his rules would get the man to stay, he'd keep playing until he finally won but something no one knew was that Leon had always been a great cheat at games when he wanted to be, and right now, he has no mood to play fair—

So he catches up, catches Cloud by the arm, and now he's 'it'. The charade has to keep going, another round, another match, another heavy slash and dodge and cut and burn. Swords and magic cross, slice through the air like angry dragons, gods of thunder – so fantastical it's almost unreal and soon Cloud realizes that Leon isn't just playing to win anymore, so for the first time, he decides to get serious—

They are swaying again, stumbling blindly through elegant footwork that compliments each of their motions. In the darkness, it's almost as if one wrong move would throw them off balance into the pitch black and that would be it but it's never so easy and none are stupid enough to be clumsy during such an important fight. Yet one wrong move _would_ end it all, only none of them were going to let it end so carelessly because Leon has questions that need answers, violently, and Cloud is tired of anti-climactic goodbyes, slash, hack, _move_. Even through the darkness, even as they dance to the requiem that accompanies this charade, Leon can see the scornful glint in those vivaciously eerie eyes. He knows he's being looked down on and he knows that were it not a game he would die and he knows that even through the darkness the glow of those eyes would remain arrogantly on him but he can't help wanting to wipe away the nonexistent smirk on Cloud's face (because he knew Cloud did not believe in trash talk and would not demean him) because he knows that Cloud doesn't even think of him as an equal and that **hurts** him more than _THUNDAGA—_

— God, that hurts. That _hurts_. That _hurts_ and he wonders if he is even a little bit close to winning the game even as he lunges forward, sword arm raised high and ready to swing down heavily. He wants to end this. He wants to quit the game. He's tired of playing cat and mouse. He's tired of playing hide-and-seek. He's tired of being 'it' forevermore.

No chance.

One split second. Water is everywhere now, thunder, lightning, rain, clouds. Cloud. It's like this fight had brought on the storm. Ironic, but he doesn't care. Wild droplets of stinging rain hurtles down to the earth, releasing a hail of cold water that makes his hair stick to his face and neck, and makes his clothes weigh down with the weight of the water so it's hard to see and even harder to move. Leon wants to attack, sprint forward, but it's slippery so he staggers. Lightning flashes and blinds him, and in that moment Cloud strikes. He barely makes out the shape of the sword and the angle of the slash as lightning flashes again, but he raises his own blade and parries, twisting his ankle as he dodges to the side and slips and falls face first—

Leon escapes, but only for a moment, because he suddenly feels long fingers, strong grip, wrenching him onto his back and —pain. Fire in his limbs. There's blood in his mouth and on his tongue and suddenly it's hard to breathe and how can it not be when Cloud's mouth is on his own and now it almost feels like Russian roulette because he's gambling everything and nothing on this one move—

— And it fails, because he can't overpower Cloud, but not really, because Leon realizes with horror that this is what all the games had been leading up to, and somehow he grasps that this – _this_ – had been the climax, the answer that he's been wanting all along.

It's wet and slippery and Cloud doesn't even bother with his clothes, his rain-soaked gloves are a nuisance as he clumsily pulls Leon's shirt out of his trousers and tugs at those belts, belts, belts but it's enough.

For now.

He's cold because the rain is _freezing_ and he can barely see because lightning is flashing and dissevering the sky with light as it floods the night and blinds him, paralyzes him, and he's numb because everything is moving, fast, fast, fast and _those lips are on his mouth again—_

It's just ripping and clawing and kissing and he can't hear anything but thunder and water and soon his body is trembling ravenously, hungering for the warmth of Cloud's body as his nimble legs twine around that slender waist and he quivers, wanting them both to _move_.

The storm crashes over and over and it's almost as if nothing is real because he can't _feel_ but he knows those hands are running across his body underneath the tight constraints of his drenched clothes and he knows that those lips are a sanctuary from the cold of the rain and he knows that it's impossible to see anything because his eyes are squeezed shut and his head is thrown back and he's fighting to not lose himself but he _knows_ that Cloud is staring down at him with those intense eyes and he _knows_ that he's not really losing – never has, never really was – and somehow he _knows_ that Cloud is as beautiful as Leon is imagining him to be even though it's strange to call a man 'beautiful'.

A flash tears through the night and they're moving but it doesn't really seem like it because the rain is getting heavier by the minute and neither of them are making much noise. Leon's gloved fingers are clawing mercilessly into the hard rock beneath him and too soon it's over, but the truth is it's only just begun—

— Because the next thing he knows, he's being shoved roughly onto his stomach and the pain bites through him like a white hot knife transpierces sensitive skin but he ignores the pain easily even as he struggles onto his arms because they're moving again and _god it feels good_.

— But Leon can't give in now, not yet, it's too soon and if Cloud wins, everything would have been for naught, so he fights more, resists, pushes, and now it looks like he might win but he's no fool; Cloud has always been the stronger one and victory will never come easy. But now, now at least, their battle is on equal footing and Leon _fights_ to gain the upper hand, and he succeeds and now the tides are turned and he's going to _win_, after so long he's finally going to _win_—

— But it's Cloud who pins him down again, plants his mouth right by his ear and whispers two words that make Leon shudder from revelation as well as from climax before he becomes nothing and falls away into nothingness and the rain assails him once more, once more, and it's all he hears and it will be all that he'll ever hear before he picks up the pieces of himself and restarts all over again.

"Game over."


End file.
